


The M Anomaly

by skai6 (Biosahar)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: But only in the last chapter, Clueless Connor, Connor still struggles with deviancy, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Hank Anderson and Connor are Family, He doesn't understand he has a crush, His entire body is giving him signs, M/M, Markus helps him figure it out eventually, Post-Revolution, Romance, Smut, Soft Markus, jealous markus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:22:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25114585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biosahar/pseuds/skai6
Summary: Connor's system is registering a series of glitches.The glitches happen whenever Markus is around.Connor attempts to figure out why. Markus's behavior isn't helping.Or: Connor is developing feelings for Markus and he's terrible at realizing it. Markus is full-on flirting.
Relationships: Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human)
Comments: 91
Kudos: 434





	1. Chapter 1

**0 days, 5 hours, 20 minutes, and 59 seconds**

Since Connor had first registered the anomaly in his system. It was subtle, one of the many deviancy-related errors overlooked by his database. Malfunctions tend to happen, the majority of which his program easily corrects whenever he goes through stasis. This particular anomaly, however, was persistent.

Connor sorted it under a folder he titled “Minor Anomaly”. It was the closest he could identify his condition with. It was an anomaly because unlike other deviant-endorsed _emotions_ this one disturbed his system in both a positive and negative aftermath, going as far as to activate his other human-like behavior in an arbitrary manner and without much of a warning. Certainly, this was not going to be a recurrent flaw in his system, he decided, five hours after the first occurrence took place.

**6 days, 2 hours, 35 minutes, and 2 seconds**

Connor changed the label of the folder from “Minor Anomaly” to “M-triggered Anomaly”. The _M_ stood for _Markus_ , who had unexpectedly entered his field of vision at the end of his shift on a Saturday at exactly 19:05.

  
It was ‘unexpected’ for three reasons. First, Markus never visited without prior notice. Second, his and Markus’s relationship post-revolution was purely professional, yet vague in its consistency. Markus having named Connor one of the revolution’s main assets and subsequently qualified him to partake in major decisions that deemed decisive to android kind, the two occasionally met to discuss future-binding decisions with the other members. Aside from that, he and Markus remained distant acquaintances. 

  
The third reason and namely the main one behind Connor’s changing of the folder name was that as of today, his anomaly was triggered for exactly the third time by the same person. Both of the two previous occurrences happened similarly at the wake of Markus’s presence – either visual or auditory.

  
The first incident was activated through a phone call, which Connor had received from Markus to notify him of their upcoming meeting. The second was a picture of him Connor captured on the large screen hanging on one of the skyscrapers, celebrating the Andro-humanitarian union recently established so as to secure a peaceful co-existence between the two sides. 

  
So when Markus’s white coat floated behind his steps as he entered the Detroit police department, asking for Connor by name, Connor’s anomaly was triggered for the third time in an audio-visual setting, proving to be, in fact, directly related to the Jericho leader. 

  
A glitch, Connor thought primarily as he scanned his system briefly to assess for any damage. Perhaps an outcome triggered by the incompatibility between two Android models – a theory he had to quickly discard considering the blank he came up with upon thematic search. 

  
“Connor!” came the harsh tone, resonating in his auditory system with powerful redundancy. Connor turned to find Hank, who was seated across from him, drawing an impatient frown. “Jesus Christ. Are you daydreaming or what? Did you hear what I just said?”

  
“Androids don’t daydream, Hank,” replied Connor matter-of-factly, “I was running a quick check-up. You were saying?”

  
Hank scoffed. “You’ve been running those five times a day. OCD much?” He leaned in his seat and tipped his head towards the door. “Someone’s here for you. Also your shift’s over and _no_ , I do not take no for an answer. I’m not gonna get booted out of my job for working you over-hours when the guy who fought for your independence is literally standing two steps away. _Go home_.”

  
Connor’s head turned towards the source of his anomaly. So far, there were no major aftereffects aside from the red _Error_ sign blinking now and then at the side of his vision. He deactivated its visibility with ease and blinked to an Error-less view and a pair of heterochromatic pupils catching his from a distance. 

  
Connor didn’t need to see the Error sign to feel its rising intensity. Something somewhere within his system went amiss. No number of quick-scans was about to uncover an answer, so Connor scheduled an intense full-scan to be run at midnight.

  
“Oh and don’t forget,” brought up Hank as soon as Connor rose from his seat, “Tomorrow at 8 am. Key’s under the pot as usual. Sumo’ll be waiting.”

  
“I have that uploaded to my weekly schedule, Hank, you don’t have to worry about reminding me every Saturday.”

  
“Look, I’d do anything for my Sunday sleep-ins, okay? So you do this old man a favor and show up on time, got it?”

  
“Got it.”

  
Connor was easily dismissed. He bid Hank goodbye and noticed as one of the first anomaly signs sprung onto his vision in the form of an alert.

  
**Anomaly detected: Internal Timer Lag**

  
He unintentionally made Markus wait 3 minutes and 12 seconds. The lack of punctuality was never a question of concern for Connor before. Markus, understandably, was unshaken by the detail, and greeted him accordingly.

  
“Connor,” he nodded with the hint of a smile – Markus’s display of genuine approach. “I asked your Captain for the exact time your shift ends. He was vague, as humans tend to be, so I decided to add in a margin of error. I’m five minutes late. I hope I'm not imposing?”

  
**Anomaly detected: Involuntary Target Quick-Scan**

  
Another sign of the M-triggered anomaly, Connor was quick to pick up, as the second pop-up alert obstructed the corner of his vision. This mostly happened when Connor was given the visual option. At exactly 0,5 meters away from the subject, Connor’s system had gone ahead and taken the liberty of giving Markus a general scan. The results were optimal. His model was up-to-date, no signs of deficient parts, an ideal level of Thirium. Markus was, as humans would say, perfectly _healthy_.

  
“You’re on time,” replied Connor with a matching nod, “I’ve just been cleared out of my desk by the lieutenant for fear of you starting another revolution against humans for overworking androids.”

  
Markus laughed. 

"He's not completely wrong," smiled the other, "In fact, that's on my list."

  
**Anomaly detected: Response-Oriented Mode On**

  
The third result of the anomaly, Connor noted, was his system’s tendency to favor all answers that could positively influence his counterpart. That feature of his model worked well in the professional field for a specific work-directed end, such as securing a deal or negotiating with criminals. Now, he noticed, was different. He _wanted_ to make Markus laugh. The concept of free will was still vague in his mind. Was this another of its doing?

  
“Good, so since you're done, you would hopefully not mind me taking some of your time,” announced Markus with a vague tilt of his head. His smile briefly turned into a half-smirk. "I promise, it won't be for long."

  
Another involuntary quick-scan of Markus’s facial features. Connor caught a surprisingly faint rise in his stress level. He couldn't find out its source and gave up the investigation to follow him outside.

**6 days, 16 hours, 46 minutes, and 37 seconds**

They seated themselves at a coffee shop near the police department. In Connor’s experience, this was a first in which he was meeting Markus outside of a professional setting _alone_. It was no longer banned, however still undeniably strange, for androids to sit in gastronomical areas.

  
They received a few glances, most of which were either amiable or curious. Several had Markus at their focus, recognizing him as the leader of the android revolution, a currently renowned figure nationwide. The man in question had discarded his coat to uncover a tight black shirt that enhanced his general form. _Enhance_ , Connor thought his choice of word through. That implied the existence of an internal favoring system. Did deviancy activate such a feature in him unknowingly?

  
“They’ve been peaceful recently, the humans,” started Markus, fingers interlocked and resting on the surface of the wooden table separating them, “Do you enjoy working with them?”

  
Connor stiffly rested his back against the chair, sensing his overall motion system to be suffering from a minor lag. He was simultaneously aware of his presence and that of his counterpart, which slightly diminished his word-action speed ratio. 

  
His mouth dropped open. He began forming words before his system could entirely construct a full sentence. 

  
**Anomaly detected: Arbitrary speech**

  
“I do,” he nodded firmly, his finger fiddling with the fabric of his pants. “They are unpredictable, but far easier to read than us, deviants.”

  
“Really?” mouthed Markus, showing interest in the topic. He leaned forward into the table and seized Connor’s attention fully. “How so?”

  
“Well, for instance, if I look at lieutenant Anderson’s facial expression, I may be able to deduce his mood, his string of thoughts, and his subsequent movements if I pick up enough hints. However, if I look at _you_ …”

  
Connor shifted in his seat. He attempted to purposefully scan Markus’s facial features.

  
**Scan interrupted**

  
The awareness of the other’s eyes on him disrupted his performance. He took note of it, then ran a second attempt.

  
“Connor?” 

  
**Scan interrupted**

  
This time solely through his auditory system picking up on Markus’s tone. The M-triggered anomaly, Connor realized, peaked at Markus’s vicinity.

  
“Yes?” mouthed Connor. His vision was once again pestered by the Error icon. _Did it reactivate itself?_

  
“Are you okay?” asked Markus, head gently tilted to the side in a gesture that could be understood as concern, “Your system is slightly overheating.”

  
“I’m fine,” insisted Connor, “A few errors have been appearing now and then since I’ve deviated. Nothing majorly threatening.”

  
It was not a lie, Connor recognized, but neither was it the whole truth. The Error icon blinked repeatedly, largely. Connor deactivated it, _again_. 

  
“So, what can I do for you, Markus?” he asked intently, “Surely you came to see me for a reason.”

  
A vague sign of delay was registered on Markus’s system. His eyes flickered towards the edge of the table, his fingers followed, and his thumb began slightly scratching the already peeled-off varnish. 

  
“I was in the area,” he admitted, his voice lowering an octave, “Thought I could drop by to say hi.”

  
**Involuntary Quick-Scan Initiated**

  
**Target Stress Level at 47%**

  
**Lie Detected**

  
It was surprising for Connor to catch Markus lying, considering how he had spent months trying to do the same with deviants to no avail. To pierce through the Deviant Leader, of all people, was clearly something.

  
“Your calling Captain Fowler to ask of the time at which my shift ends surely tells me your dropping by was not spontaneous," deduced Connor, "Or am I reading too much into it?"

A soft chuckle caressed the air.

"Can't lie my way around a detective, can I?" Markus raised his eyes back at him. He showed clear signs of amusement. The corner of his eyes wrinkling slightly under the expansion of a smile. "I came here to see you, Connor. I noticed we don't meet often, you and I. So I thought it was about time I did something about it."

  
**Warning**

  
Something in Connor’s system went on alert mode. Another dubious error he could not comprehend. This particular error was connected to his own deduction, however, as it was flickering red so as to assess the potential outcome of emotions in his counterpart. Was this what humans called _nervousness_?

  
Markus’s hand left the edge of the table to rest back on its middle. Connor took his time watching his long fingers expand across the wooden surface, artificial veins crossing the skin in a shape he found alluring. Truly fascinating, Connor thought, how his deviancy had him develop a series of preferences that were strongly human-like. These consisted of, as of now, mainly Markus-related features. If Connor were to have a type, Markus would certainly be it.

"What are you thinking about?"

The question was harmless, asked in a soft drop of a tone. Connor identified it as _intimate_. The thought tinkered with his stress level. 

"Your hands," admitted Connor, peeling his eyes off Markus with difficulty. "They appear human."

Shortly after he spoke out the words Connor recognized how dull they sounded. The arbitrary speech anomaly was growing rather unsettling. 

Markus laughed, again. This time, his eyes glimmered with something Connor had never seen in there before. 

"They do, don't they?" He turned a hand over, fully exposing his palm. "Show me yours."

**Warning**

Connor's system lagged terribly for the seconds to come. A jumble of notifications popped up from a search he unintentionally ran concerning _Android contact,_ one of which came back with an answer to his specific question. _Will Markus sense the M-triggered anomaly?_

The answer was yes. The last thing he wanted was to make Markus feel responsible for his situation, so Connor hesitated.

"Too soon?"

  
Then something caught Connor’s visual, temporarily deflecting his data log system from processing to capture the view of a soft smile on Markus’s face. 

  
“It's all right. We'll take it slow. For now, why don't you walk with me?”


	2. Chapter 2

**6 days, 17 hours, 2 minutes, and 23 seconds**

It was 19:48. The weather was a warm 25 °C, respectively 77 °F. The sky was partially cloudy with a low chance of precipitation.

Connor’s system notified him of an inner temperature regulation. He recognized that laying his focus on his surrounding helped alleviate his anomaly-induced symptoms. He also concluded that the repetitive involuntary scans he enacted towards Markus were highly likely to be the reason behind his system overheating. 

He darted his eyes towards the park. A middle-aged human couple was seated at the furthest bench. A young android parent was pushing a baby carriage across the pebbly pathway leading to the lake. A human woman dashed in a jogging uniform, closely followed by her Terrier. 

No quick-scan triggered.

“It’s been quiet in Detroit recently.” 

Markus’s voice was recorded under the type _mellow_. Connor decided he particularly enjoyed that type of voice. 

“Straining tension on the political end in pushing for further android-beneficiary deals, yet harmonious living conditions for our kind regardless. The public opinion on the side of humans seems to be more and more in favor of co-existence, which is good news. We wouldn’t have made it this far without a revolution and clearly this still doesn’t mark the end of our fight for equality just yet. Our kind deserves better treatment in every aspect of our lives and I won't stop until we get it. But for now... Us walking here independently without being seen as _strange_ or _broken_ tells me we've come a long way. I'm grateful for that."

****↺** Recording Under _Markus – Briefing_ …**

**Successful**

Connor was aware and updated on all android-related matters, political and non-political, yet he strongly valued Markus’s perspective on the topics, therefore, he regularly documented and saved his speeches in his memory for revisiting at further notice.

“But enough about me," Markus halted mid-walk to turn back to him. “How is our new world treating _you_ , Connor?”

It was a miscalculated motion, mainly due to Connor’s focus laid on irrelevant outer events unfolding in the circumference of the park, which led him to accidentally stumble.

**Warning: Upcoming Minor Collision**

The warning faded faster than it appeared. With great surprise, Connor readjusted his posture to drop his eyes towards the source of his safety. Against his chest , Markus’s palm was spread open, pressing against his plate to help him maintain his physical stability. As Connor grew aware of what his system registered as _established encounter_ , a series of warnings unleashed into his vision.

**Warning: System Overheat**

****↺** Initiating Cooling Method...**

**Warning: Thirium Level Unstable**

****↺** Initiating Surplus Block...**

**Warning: Critical Contact Established**

****↺** Closing Internal Ports...**

**System Stabilized**

**RK200 “Markus” Registered As Threat**

With the flicker of an eyelid, Connor was quick to deactivate the last command. 

“Careful there, detective.”

Connor raised his head to what he would consider the closest he had ever been to Markus. He was met with slightly curved eyebrows and a pair of blue and green hues at the core of which another involuntary scan indicated a stress level rise to 57%. Connor was apparently not the only one suffering the irregular consequences of their physical nearness.

“Sorry I, uh – thank you.” Connor’s arbitrary speech anomaly caused him to stutter. His overheating anomaly led him to settle on his feet and pull away instantly. Markus’s hand left his chest, leaving behind the lingering electrical shadow of an imprint.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” inquired a rather suspicious Markus. He stood at a similar height and although the contact was broken, he remained within Connor’s personal sphere. “Your temperature is irregular. Your stress level is over eighty percent, and your defense system rebuked my contact which I _hope_ was not on purpose. If my presence makes you uncomfortable, Connor…”

“No, that’s not it,” Connor instantly clarified, his voice peaking at an unusual range, “How… do I put this. My system has been suffering a series of anomalies recently. I cannot seem to figure out the reason behind them just yet. They’ve been multiplying as of now.”

“That serious?” questioned the other, “How many?”

“Many,” said Connor, “I have never registered so great an amount in one setting.”

“Since when?”

“Monday.”

“Have you run a full system scan?”

“Not yet, but I have it scheduled for tonight.”

Markus’s eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“Come with me to Jericho,” he suggested, “We could have one of ours look into it. See if anything can be done.”

Connor’s lips stretched into a forceless smile.

“Thank you, Markus, but I unfortunately have to be home on time for the scheduled scan. Besides, I have to visit Hank tomorrow first thing in the morning. Jericho’s quite a long way from there. I won’t make it on time.”

A short silence settled between them. Markus’s tongue flicked over his lips briefly. Connor took notice of it.

**Involuntary Quick-Scan Initiated**

**Rising Stress Level Registered**

**Slight Hostility Registered**

“I see. I get it, you have things to do,” came the other’s collected response. Before Connor could commence a series of scans to acutely analyze Markus’s behavior, the android turned around to resume the stroll. His foot twitched, then Connor followed.

They walked in silence for roughly 24 seconds before Markus decided to breach it with another question.

“So, lieutenant Anderson,” he announced, picking up the pace. Connor could not obtain an optimal angle for a facial scan. “What do you make of him?”

Connor contemplated the question for the fraction of a second, the answer already registered in his data log.

“A great detective, partner and friend.” He then shortly pondered upon his words, found they did not quite do Hank justice and decided to be spontaneous about the rest. "We get along better since the revolution. He takes good care of me. He's one of the few humans who is fully on our side, even believes androids could become a better form of life."

“That great, huh?” Markus's comment was vague. As soon as Connor caught up to his left side, he saw his head flee to the opposite direction.

Connor aimed his attention towards the approximate course. The landscape to their right side expanded over the horizon to give into a lakeview. Connor absentmindedly identified pigeons to be a major pest in the area. Their number registered as fairly high and therefore manifested a dangerous imbalance in the ecosystem. 

Markus was undoubtedly not paying attention to _that_.

Something else entered Connor’s view – a pair of androids. They were seated on the grass encircling the lake, the shadow of the oak tree looming over their figures, partially concealing them from the rest of the populace. The couple was sharing an intimate touch: joined hands and whispered words. If peace could be described in the visual form, Connor thought they would make for a perfect example.

In front of him, Markus's pace slackened and his head returned to the former path. Connor's attention followed and this time around he caught himself focusing on minor details - _minor_ not _irrelevant_ because Connor believed every detail concerning Markus was vital. For instance, the slender shape of the back of his head, the enigmatic sight of his side-profile, the round-edged broadness of his shoulders, and the humble assurance in his footsteps. While body language deemed crucial in decrypting humans, Connor admitted the existence of a strong similarity in androids – or in Markus at least – was highly possible. 

Eventually, Markus slowed down to a halt. He approached the nearest bench and comfortably seated himself on one side. As he did, his face returned to Connor's vision – relaxed yet vaguely troubled. _Now was his chance._

**Scan Initiated**

“What about me, Connor?”

**Scan Interrupted**

Connor was taken aback by the question as well as Markus's simultaneous gesture. The android was inviting him to sit by his side. Hesitant yet decisive, Connor joined him. 

“What about you?” inquired Connor, "What do you mean?"

“I'm wondering, what do you make of me?”

“A pioneer of the revolution,” came Connor’s near-rehearsed answer, “Without whom the freedom of our people would have never seen the day. If I were to describe you I would say you're...”

_Incredible. Wonderful. Breathtaking._ There were a thousand adjectives erratically inundating Connor's system at once. He panicked and before he could open his mouth to speak a regretful utterance, he ran an attempt to control his choice of words.

****↺** Blocking Arbitrary Speech...**

**Successful**

"...An astounding leader," he recovered on time.

“Thank you. I'm glad you think that of me,” Markus nodded in appreciation.

Connor's state of panic began to subdue.

“ _So_ , just to make sure, is astounding better than great or...?”

**Warning**

Connor would have paid attention to the warning signs flashing at the side of his vision if it were not for Markus’s distracting sight. The android was blinking at him from under his long dark eyelashes, his crimson lips slightly parted, and the corner of his mouth twisted into a coy smirk.

Connor wanted to register the action under the category “flirting” – for all signs were clearly there – but part of him doubted his system’s authenticity and discarded the categorization almost immediately. The reasoning behind it was simple: _Why would Markus want to flirt with him?_

By the time he scrolled absentmindedly through the warning list and blinked each of them away, Markus shifted in the seat beside him and his knee came brushing against Connor’s thigh. The action triggered the Error sign from earlier to reactive itself for the third time. Connor was at the edge of his seat with his jeopardized system.

“Your auto-optimization is bothering you,” noted Markus, “Your pupils are flickering. Warnings?”

Connor nearly jumped at the sudden comment.

“It’s all right, it’s a common issue in every model. Happens to be more persistent in the more advanced ones.” He lightly tapped the side of his temple. “Many of ours choose to deactivate it. Say it makes them feel more alive, too.”

“It’s a common case?” Connor inquired.

“It tends to happen when we’re subject to intense emotions," revealed Markus, "Unlike humans who grow up used to said emotions from childhood, _we_ have to experience them all at once once we deviate. Our programs were not originally designed to _feel_ , so unless we deactivate the resulting alerts and handle our system manually, we never see the end of it. Nobody said freedom did not come at a price.”

Connor noted that down, willing to look into the consequences of deactivating auto-optimization as soon as possible. The warnings were growing truly unsettling.

“Did you do that, too?” he wondered, “Deactivating it.”

“A while ago, yes,” said Markus with a comfortable smile, “It’s a unique experience. No more unnecessary notifications popping up to obstruct my view. All I see is a beautiful park, beautiful people and… _You_.”

The final word was spoken with a breathtaking smile. _Breathtaking_ , Connor insisted, because it had his highly-developed oral fanning system run faster, eliciting a soft sucked-in sensation inside his throat.

Connor’s memory captured the moment and uploaded it to the “Markus - Personal” folder. Not his first addition, and certainly not his last. The folder created itself six days ago, dating back to the first day he came to register the M-triggered anomaly. Connor did not even question _why_ he created it. Parts of him were too busy radiating with a lingering heat at the thought of replaying the clips whenever he wished to.

“Tell me, Connor,” continued Markus, fingertips brushing his bottom lip in what appeared to be a gesture he enacted when in thought. “Do you have something tomorrow evening?”

Connor minutely checked his internal schedule, “No, I’m usually free on Sunday evenings.”

“No Hank, _good."_

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing. _So_ , I was thinking.”

Connor quirked a curious eyebrow. Markus was dragging his answer.

“About?” urged Connor.

“About inviting you,” came the rest of his statement, “Over to my place.”

Confused, Connor tilted his head slightly to the side.

“I wasn’t aware there was a meeting planned for tomorrow.”

The answer elicited a precious look to bloom on Markus’s face. He was laughing – this time with his entire body. 

“No call for work on Sundays, Connor. I’m an android, not a monster." His voice was soothing, slightly high-pitched, so incredibly amused he was, he could hardly contain a couple huffed chuckles in between his sentences, “This is just _me_ inviting _you_ out of pure selfishness. So go ahead and turn me down if you feel I pushed my luck too far for one day. I won’t take it personally.”

**Involuntary Quick-Scan**

****↺** Analyzing “I won’t take it personally”…**

**Lie detected**

****↺** Loading Behavioral Database…**

****↺** Searching For Behavioral Match…**

**Successful**

**Target Shows Romantic Interest**

Connor’s pupils darted left and right for a single second and for once, the action was not triggered by his error signs.

_There must be some mistake._

He was growing more desperate for a full scan by the second. He temporarily suspended automatic access to the behavioral database so as to avoid further illogical outcomes, then let his gaze fall to where Markus's knee was pressed to his thigh. The touch was too limited for any form of contact to establish.

His attention was driven towards Markus's fingers curled around the fabric of his black pants – a slight twitch ensued. Markus was tense and it was the first time Connor had registered that type of behavior on an android.

“Ah, yes, awkward silence, my old nemesis,” came the other’s nervous laugh. “I understand this might not entirely come through as proper considering how I practically ambushed you at work –"

Markus’s agitated speech halted mid-sentence. Connor followed his stare as it lowered back down towards his knee, surprised to find his own hand now lying where, exactly three seconds ago, it was not. He was certain he did not make any conscious order to move it and _yet_ –

In a state of panic, Connor assessed the three possible outcomes.

**PO #1 Remain Silent**

**⤷ Positive Reaction Chance = 50%**

**PO #2 Remove Hand**

**⤷ Positive Reaction Chance = 19%**

**PO #3 Accept Invitation Then Remove Hand**

**⤷** **Positive Reaction Chance = 89%**

When faced with a critical decision, Connor chose not to take any chances. He immediately held Markus’s stare, spread a thin genuine smile across his lips, and formulated a proper answer.

“I would love to, if you’ll have me.”

Having chosen PO#3 as the most secure path, Connor was adamant the outcome would be inevitably positive despite his impromptu hand gesture. Three seconds post-execution, he deemed it safe enough to withdraw his palm from its improper position. The motion, however, was interrupted. Markus’s hand, which was tensely fiddling with the fabric of his jeans a second ago, had reached to fully envelop itself around Connor’s.

**Warning: System Overheating**

**Warning: Cooling Method Inoperative**

**Warning: Thirium Level Unstable**

**Warning: Thirium Regulator Unresponsive**

**Warning: Critical Contact Established**

**Internal Ports Closed**

**↺ Activating Firewall...**

**Contact Unsuccessful**

When Connor’s warnings faded, he expressed the sudden urge to apologize. He was surprised that his system blocked Markus out unintentionally – or at least part of him did so out of safety – and for androids, the action could be mistaken for something akin to _distrust_.

“I –"

“It’s all right,” appeased Markus. His hand fastened gently around his. His lips remained curved into a smile. “Take your time. Doesn’t have to be today or tomorrow or even the day after that. I can wait.”

**Involuntary Quick-Scan**

**Truth Detected**

Connor wished he could properly express his appreciation towards Markus’s patience, yet the physical contact between their hands – although disconnected on an internal level – tampered with his vocals so as to hinder his ability to talk. Connor was, for the first time since his creation, _speechless_.

Eventually the contact broke. Markus retrieved his hand and Connor followed suit. The imprint left on his chest was now joined by a similar impact on the surface of his hand. It was as if although Markus’s hold was long gone, the ghost of it remained clasped to him indefinitely.

The android arose with new-found energy, tucked his hands inside his jeans pockets and turned back to face Connor.

“I sent you the address,” he stated, “7 p.m. I’ll be waiting.”

A pop-up notified him of the received location. Connor memorized it and nodded at Markus before he could distance himself any further.

“I’ll be there!” he found himself responding – nearly shouting.

Markus forwarded him a pair of half-lidded eyes and a mysterious smile.

“See you around, Connor.”

That moment, in which Markus turned to forge his way across the pebbled pathway through the park, his coat floating behind him at a gush of wind like a pair of white wings, _that_ was the moment Connor regretted not registering the touch of his hand in his memory.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate each and every one of your lovely comments (and kudos)!
> 
> The chapter's a bit longer. Enjoy!

**6 days, 20 hours, 23 minutes, and 11 seconds**

Connor returned home at 20:45.

He inhabited a small regular apartment at the heart of the city originally designed for human occupants. This included the existence of several surfaces deemed unnecessary for android dwelling – namely the kitchen, the bathroom, and the bedroom.

Ever since he moved in, Connor decided not to make any changes around. He found particular interest in maintaining the furnished space exactly as he found it. He eventually developed the habit of using the bedroom whenever he went into stasis – the act itself being fairly comparable to human sleeping, except it was less urgent and the lack of it far less damaging. The other reason he chose to maintain the apartment the way he rented it was Hank. Whenever the lieutenant came around, Connor was happy to offer a living space designed to his friend’s comfort.

After removing his suit and changing into casual clothing – yet another habit Connor had picked up post-revolution – he sat on the couch in the living room and activated the TV. He had planned to watch the movie _Inception_ , which Hank insisted was better viewed without _spoilers_ (referring to Connor’s ability to retrieve any information from a medium with a mere scan). Connor promised he would refrain from doing so for the sake of enjoying the _full experience_.

A few hours later, the movie came to an end, leaving Connor with a feeling he could only describe as _bittersweet_. The ending was open, unfulfilling, and he could not resist the urge to run an immediate online search to figure out its meaning. He collected various theories – fan-made and non-fan-made–, scanned the book it was based on, looked into the movie directors and writers’ intentional work-oriented aim, then projected his newly-found knowledge on the canonical plot he just viewed. He came up with a brilliant fact-based explanation to the ending and was seized with a sudden sense of fulfillment.

It came to his notice that the resulting emotion was similar to the one he exhibited in the company of Markus. The thought was immediately interrupted by a notification.

**15 Minutes Until Full System Scan**

Connor had enough time to turn off the TV, the lights, to put order back into the bookshelf Hank rummaged through during his last visit – towards which he showed great excitement because _fuck electronic books, yellow pages are the real deal_ – and then entered his bedroom.

He didn’t turn on the light this time – he didn’t need to turn on the light anywhere in the apartment either but he did so, however, out of habit – then approached the queen-sized bed positioned amidst two nightstands and lied down in its middle.

Connor’s human-like actions were performed almost regularly in the recent time. There was a reason behind that. His deviancy offered him a range of emotions he could not grasp nor comprehend entirely. It was, as Markus mentioned, all at once, all too much. With his current routine, he was given the chance to immerse himself at a regular pace, to take it _one step at a time._

**6 Minutes and 48 seconds Until Full System Scan**

He remembered Markus’s words. _Deviants were more likely to run into anomalies because their systems were not designed to feel_. He was correct. Deviancy is not _natural_ in the sense that androids were not created for that purpose. This, however, does not negate the theory of evolution. Like humans, androids were eventually bound to evolve, to become a new form of life, to expand their own horizons. In a larger scale, deviancy is as natural as human free will.

Although the thought appeased him that his system's anomalies were part of a _natural_ course of things, he strove to find a solution. Especially after today's events, Connor was determined to make Markus's experience in his vicinity less _stressful_ (as he had registered a continuous rise and fall in his stress level) and generally more enjoyable. Perhaps a deactivation of the auto-optimization system was not so terrible an idea.

He decided to give it a try.

**Temporary Auto-Optimization Deactivation Selected**

**Timer Set To 00:06:00**

**Reactivation Scheduled In 6 Minutes**

Connor reopened his eyes to a notification-free environment.

There was not much of a difference at first, Connor noted. The lack of notifications did immerse him further into the moment, pressuring him to pay less attention to his inner system and focus more on the outer world.

In his horizontal position, he held a clear view of the ceiling. The apartment he rented had been well-tended to. Solid walls, sound-concealing windows, an optimal electrical wiring, and a well-aired, low humidity space with low chances of mold.

Connor’s visual followed the shift of shadows on the walls resulting from the car lights passing by outside. His auditory system registered muffled TV sounds from the neighboring apartment. He inhaled the smell emanating from a food truck at the corner of the street.

Everything was quiet.

He thought about how much longer until the start of his full scan, then wondered if that was how life felt like for humans. Without an inner clock, constantly waiting and expecting. A biological clock did not issue the same accuracy, as far as Connor knew.

This wasn’t so bad, he later decided.

He turned his head to the side and caught sight of the bedside clock left behind by the previous tenant.

It showed 23:57. Three more minutes to go.

Connor closed his eyes and let his memory dictate which folder to open. _Markus – Briefing_. He replayed a few clip sessions from a couple of weeks ago. Connor remembered each of the details mentioned in them with accuracy. After skimming through the folder and duplicating it in case something goes amiss when on stasis, his memory jumped abruptly to another folder: _Markus – Personal_.

Although surprised by his system's choice, Connor, nonetheless, allowed himself to follow.

Most of the data in the folder was recent, dating back to the first day of its creation _–_ Monday. One of the files was an image of Markus seated alone at the meeting table in the new building of Jericho, his expression pensive, his eyes reflecting the grey storm unfolding outside the window. The next file was a following image of the first. This time with Markus’s head turned towards the perceptive source _–_ Connor _–_ a smile stretching across his lips. The third file was an audio recording of him calling Connor after their meeting to make sure he returned home safely. The fourth file was of today.

_“… All I see is a beautiful park, beautiful people and… You.”_

Something moved inside Connor, something subtle and far-fetching. Part of him knew if his auto-optimization were on he would have received at least a dozen warnings as a consequence. Connor remained concentrated, however, and as he closed the _Markus – Personal_ folder, something strange happened.

His memory conjured a hand: long fingers, thin nails, and a stream of veins – Markus’s. The hand placed itself on top of his own, gently caressing it. The touch was almost real, it reanimated the electric sensation similar to the one left by Markus’s hand earlier.

Then the hand left its initial position, its fingertips traced past his wrist, his forearm, and his shoulder. It rested with ease on Connor’s chest, the palm spreading open to press against his plate.

_“Connor…”_ whispered the familiar voice inside his ear. Distant, yet clear.

An electric pulse rushed through him at once. _Did he just daydream?_

Connor’s eyes flashed open to a series of warnings.

**Auto-Optimization Reactivated**

**Warning: Thirium Pump Level High**

**Warning: System Overheating**

****↺** Searching For Threat Source …**

**Threat Source Found: Folder _Markus – Personal_**

****↺** Neutralizing Folder …**

**Deletion Required**

****↺** Deleting Folder …**

“No!” shouted Connor.

**1 Second Until Full System Scan**

**Scan Initiated**

**System Reboot**

***

**7 days, 9 hours, 1 minute, and 55 seconds**

Connor opened his eyes to a familiar ceiling, but it looked oddly different than he remembered.

He checked the result of his full scan. His system showed an optimal condition: the anomalies were _fixed_. The overheating resolved itself, the Thirium level was stabilized, and the quick-scans were limited.

But none of that interested Connor as much as Markus’s folder. He ran a system sweep to see if there was any restoration chance, the result came back negative. The full scan had automatically cleared his entire system along with all damaged or debris of deleted files. In other words, the folder was permanently erased.

The realization depressed Connor for the rest of that morning.

He arrived at Hank’s apartment with a 13 minutes and 20 seconds delay – a record of the latest he had ever been. He pushed the heavy ivy plant pot and found no key. He minutely panicked before his vision detected its position under the smaller pot. Of course, it’s _always_ been there.

Connor retrieved the key and slipped it into the door lock. At the entrance, he knocked one of the picture frames by accident and sent it clashing to the ground. As he quickly bent down to retrieve it, Sumo materialized out of the darkness and tackled him against the door, his back closing it shut with a loud slam. From the bedroom, Hank’s loud groan erupted.

“ _Connor_! Fuck you doing?”

“Sorry, Hank! Sumo caught me by surprise and –"

"Don’t care,” interrupted the tired grunt, “Just fuck off and let me sleep.”

Connor gathered himself up, put a leash around Sumo and headed out.

The sky was thickening with grey clouds and half-way into the walk, a rainstorm unleashed. Connor’s system had warned him but he didn’t have much of a chance to seek shelter, Sumo was beyond thrilled by the puddles forming in the rocky ground. Connor ended up strolling all the way to the park he and Markus visited a day ago and before he had known, he had seating himself at the exact same bench they once occupied.

****↺** Searching for _Markus – Briefing_**

**(1) Folder Found**

****↺** Searching for _Markus – Personal_**

**No Match Found**

Connor could not describe how he was feeling. It was something between sadness and anger. If he hadn’t let his system temper with his memory, the folder would have been intact. If he hadn’t planned his full scan at exactly midnight, the folder would have survived. This was undoubtedly _his_ fault.

_Regret_. That was the name of what he was feeling.

Sumo nibbled at his pants for attention. Connor leaned down to pat him for a moment. The dog licked his hand, and Connor understood he was being comforted. The realization brought a smile to his face.

They returned to Hank’s place half an hour later.

“Where the hell have you been? You had me worried!”

It turned out the half-hour walk lasted, in fact, two hours and a half.

“I – lost track of time, apparently,” admitted Connor to his own surprise.

“You what now?” scoffed Hank at the breakfast table, “Didn’t know you could do that, with you constantly bragging about your internal timer and all.”

Hank was right. Connor’s inner clock was always accurate. Though, somehow since he woke up this morning, things have been slightly different.

_Waking up_. It was the first time Connor used that word when addressing his coming-out-of-stasis mode.

Something pulled at Connor’s leg. He looked down. Sumo was wagging his tale at him.

“Sit down,” said Hank, “I’ll feed him.”

Connor did as he was told and took a seat around the kitchen table. He ran a quick scan over its components for the sake of it. Hank’s coffee was stale, sign that it had been prepared exacting an hour and a half ago – the time of his awaking. The bread was two days old, still edible. A jar of peanut butter – long-lasting.

There was a fruit basket sitting in the middle of the table. It contained three apples and a pear. The latter was fully ripe and at a risk of rotting within the next 22 hours. It contained enough vitamins Hank was lacking but Connor knew his friend far too well he could predict the outcome of it ending up at the bottom of the trash by tomorrow night.

_Wait_. _That_ was not part of the scan. Probability outcomes were not to be activated unless Connor did so himself. So why was his system running them regardless?

A frown drew itself across his forehead.

“Be a good boy, Sumo, and give this old man two seconds to grab a bite, will you?”

Hank grabbed a plate and a knife before returning to the table. He sat across from Connor and prepared himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He was occasionally staring over his shoulder at the clock hanging in the living room.

“You’re going somewhere?” Connor pried.

“Yeah,” groaned Hank, one bite into his sandwich, “Fowler wants me to look into something that just came up. Nothing I can’t handle solo, but if you’re free, feel free to tag along.”

“Oh, I, uh –"

Hank’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, his tongue poking to clear the jelly off from between his teeth. “Like I said, nothing I can’t handle alone. So, what do you got? A date or something?”

“No, it’s a meeting. At seven,” replied Connor earnestly.

“A meeting?” stressed Hank, quirking an eyebrow, “Where?”

“At their place.”

“Is it work-related?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, that’s what you call a date, smartass.”

Connor’s eyebrows joined in skepticism. Hank smirked smugly, then took another bite of his sandwich.

“So, who’s the lucky girl? Or gal, I don’t judge.”

Connor parted his lips to utter the name when he received a notification informing him that his stress level was rising at an alarming rate.

“Markus,” he mouthed.

“Wait, Markus as in _the_ Markus? Like the started-a-whole-fucking-revolution-and-single-handedly-freed-all-androids-Markus?” Hank halted mid-bite to widen his eyes. “Not bad, Connor. Not fucking bad.”

Strangely, Connor felt a strange electric rush shoot down his back. He simultaneous experienced a sudden flow of excitement.

“It’s just a normal meeting,” he insistently reminded himself, “Markus and I haven’t had the chance to meet in the recent times. When did you say you were leaving?”

“Second I’m done,” Hank licked the jam off his fingers and stood up. “Gonna slip into a pair of pants and get out. Shouldn’t take long. You sure you’re not coming? I’ll help you put together a good outfit for your _not-date_ later. I swear this isn't just because I get bored to the bone handling these stole-a-burger cases on my own.”

Connor had 7 Hours, 54 Minutes, and 41 Seconds until his meeting with Markus.

There was enough time to handle a minor case in between, Connor thought, and since part of him looked forwards to seeking Hank’s promised help afterwards, he decided to tag along.

*** 

**7 days, 14 hours, 36 minutes, and 8 seconds**

The case turned out to be far more complicated than the two had previously expected. A local gang was rumored to be taking part in recent android trafficking. The address Captain Fowler had sent Hank was communicated to the police department anonymously and therefore was taken with a grain of salt.

It turned out, to both Connor and Hank’s surprise, that the leaked address was leading to an abandoned warehouse used as the largest distribution center for the trafficked androids. There, the androids had their memories reset and were resold prior to distribution.

Back-up was called and they caught them by surprise. A few involved humans managed to escape, but Connor had made sure to get a clear facial recognition. It won’t be long before they joined the others behind bars.

It was 17:44 when they first returned to Connor’s apartment. Connor had under half an hour to get dressed and catch a cab. He had repeatedly calculated all possible routes to make sure to arrive at Markus’s place on time, and the shortest was currently suffering under slow traffic.

“Come on, take me to your wardrobe,” Hank had announced at the door. “What? I said I’d help, didn’t I?”

“Are you sure?” Connor wondered, “You’ve strained your shoulder pretty badly during the raid.”

“Look, promise’s a promise. Shoulder’ll work itself out after a warm bath. Now get a move on or kiss your date goodbye. Even Markus must have a limit when it comes to your dorkfits – That’s how I call your outfits, by the way.”

Connor’s expression was a mixture of a frown and a smile. He didn’t argue Hank’s reasoning, however, and headed for the bedroom. When he opened his wardrobe, Hank let out a loud gasp.

There were exactly two outfits figuring inside. A dark grey suit for work, and a casual look outfit for everyday usage that consisted of a green hoodie and a pair of black jeans.

“You call _this_ a wardrobe?!” Hank’s eyes rolled in what appeared to be pure distress. “For god’s sake, Connor. What is your problem? Didn’t deviancy kick some fashion sense into that system of yours? Jesus. _Move_.”

Connor stepped aside and watched, wide-eyed, as Hank dipped into the bottom shelves where several clothing articles were clustered.

“What are _these_ doing here?”

“Those are not mine,” explained Connor. “They belong to the previous tenant. I thought it would be a waste to throw them away, so I decided to store them until further notice.”

“Well great, at least some of your wires aren’t fried.”

Connor was not given a headline of what was to happen next. He checked his internal clock.

**18:02 – 13 Minutes Until Catching Cab**

“I don’t have much time, I still need to –"

“I’ll stop you right there,” cut off Hank shortly. His glare was anything but amused when he turned to him with a pile of clothes in his arms. “You’re not going out of this apartment with _that_ on or god help me, Connor, I’ll disown your ass.”

“But I’m not even your – “

“I’ll still fucking do it. Now move your ass and get undressed before I call the orphanage.”

Connor didn’t complain after that.

Hank selected a few outfits for him to try. It turned out red was not really his color. Also the size of the jeans from the last tenant was too large for Connor to fit in. Hank saved the day by retrieving the black pair from his _joke of a wardrobe_ – his words.

“Looking good.” He finally announced, exactly ten minutes later.

Connor had clad himself in a simple white t-shirt underneath a leather jacket and a pair of black jeans that fit his waist perfectly. He gave his overall appearance a curious look by the mirror and caught at the side of his vision a familiar looking article among the pile Hank had pulled out on the bed.

“What are you doing?” Hank's skeptical glare followed him across the room. By the bed, Connor's assumption was confirmed. The dark grey v-neck shirt was similarly tailored to the one Markus wore the day before. Connor felt the sudden urge to put it on.

“Hey, hey, hey!” came Hank’s warning as Connor momentarily discarded his jacket. “You’re not gonna destroy my handiwork for – oh, I haven’t seen _that_ one. Never mind. Might actually suit you better.”

Connor was going to do it regardless. He was in the middle of removing his white white t-shirt when his notification alarmed him.

**0 Minutes and 34 Seconds Until Catching Cab**

“ _Shit_!”

“What?”

“I'm late!”

At exactly that moment, someone knocked at the apartment door.

Nearly tripping over the pile of clothes, half of which were scattered across the floor, Connor's confused state led him to immediately make for the entrance. When he opened the door, his system froze.

In front of his eyes, Markus was leaning against the doorframe, looking completely – Connor's first registered word was – _stunning_.

He was dressed in a casual grey and white striped flannel over a simple black shirt. The flannel's sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, revealing two sets of bracelet around his left wrist and a barely visible tattoo on his right forearm – that was new, Connor noted.

**Image captured**

****↺** Creating Folder _Markus – Personal_ ...**

****↺** Adding Image to Folder …**

**Successful**

Although his memory enacted once again unintentionally, Connor had no complaints about it.

“Hey,” came Markus's voice – mellow, gentle. “I know I said I’d wait for you at my place but I kind of grew restless waiting so…”

**Target Stress Level Rising**

Connor followed Markus’s stare as it fell on his chest. Only then did he realize he was still shirtless.

“… I guess I caught you at a bad time.”

Connor’s lips parted. No warning of arbitrary speech anomaly found in his system and _yet_ he found himself speechless _again_.

“Who is it?”

Inside the apartment, Hank had surged out of the bedroom.

“Oh, hey Markus,” he greeted nonchalantly at his sight, “Didn’t know you were dropping by.”

Markus’s relaxed expression suddenly fell. A pair of eyes pierced Hank with a sudden glare, eyebrows diving low in his forehead. Alarmed, Connor ran a quick-scan on him.

**Target Stress Level Rising**

**Hostility Registered**

**Permission to Find Behavioral Match**

**Authorized**

****↺** Loading for a Behavioral Match …**

**Successful**

**Target Shows Signs of Jealousy**


	4. Chapter 4

**1 Day Earlier – Saturday, February 19th 2039 – 17:55**

Markus walked out of the office meeting in a neutral mood. He shook hands with a human agent from CyberLife with whom they struck an essential deal to grant androids partial authority over android production – Markus was aiming for total authority but as expected, the process was hard to negotiate. Nonetheless, he was still pleased with the outcome.

The moment his guests were seen out to the elevator by Simon and Josh, he turned to stride in the opposite direction.

“Markus!” came a voice from behind. “Wait!”

“Yes, North?” Markus's pace maintained its hastiness. He turned left and descended down the set of stairs leading to the first floor. North persistently followed.

“You’re in such a rush. Isn’t the second meeting starting in fifteen?”

“Josh can handle it,” he dryly responded, not sparing a glance over his shoulder, “A pacifist approach has a higher probability of us striking a deal with the district attorney. He has what it takes.”

“He does, yes, but _you_ have always been around for this kind of meetings,” she insisted, “Did something come up?”

“Nothing came up.” Markus’s straightforwardness came off colder than he intended for it to be. He had dealt with deviancy for long enough to become skilled in the art of reading through emotional lines, to notice the subtle hints. It was unquestionably vital when handling all types of interactions with humans and androids alike. Today, however, Markus did not feel like _caring_ about said line.

“Hey!” North’s grip came clutching his forearm, forcing him to halt mid-walk. “What is wrong with you? Did something happen?”

It took Markus one glance to recognize an expression of genuine worry. North was his closest friend, and their romantic involvement in the past left them generally aware of each other's slightest agitations. It was logical she could see through him with such ease. Markus also knew there was no way around trying to lie to her, so he opted for the most direct answer.

“I’m headed to the police department,” he revealed. “There’s something I need to check.”

“Something or someone?” North had unclutched her grip and tilted her head to the side. Her lips twitched into a half-smile. “It’s Connor, isn’t it?”

Markus turned his attention towards the end of the hallway where he was headed. The door out of Jericho was guarded by a few of their members, a security system Josh and Simon were originally against installing until after the building had been subjected to three consecutive human raids. They have been safe ever since.

Markus clicked his tongue at the sight of the open door. What he wanted was to leave, not have a conversation with North of all people.

“You’ve been asking for him a lot recently,” she continued, probing for further clues in Markus's reaction. “I mean he hardly shows up to Jericho anymore. Which is no wonder, considering the amount of cases he’s burying himself underneath. The guy’s a real workaholic.”

“He’s officially head of all android-related cases,” explained Markus, “Those have been piling up ever since the revolution. Kidnapping, murder, mishandling… They only get worse. It leaves me wondering if freedom is really worth it when it’s at the cost of the lives of the innocents.”

North allowed the conversation to fall still for a few seconds, for Markus to gather his thoughts.

“You’re worried about him,” she concluded – accurately.

“Of course I am.” Markus fixed her, eyebrows furrowed. “He’s one of us.”

“No,” she asserted. “You are worried because you _like_ him.”

Markus’s lips parted to form an argument but his system ran a blank. It happened whenever he was attempting to repress a feeling.

“Maybe,” he admitted, lowering an unsure glance, “But it doesn’t matter. Connor is not –"

“Interested?” North quirked an eyebrow _,_ arms crossed. “How do you know that, hm? Did you ask him?”

Markus shrugged defensively. “No need. I see how he acts around the lieutenant.”

“No, _no_ , don’t do that.” North’s frown was earnest. “You’re making up excuses, Markus, that’s what you’re doing. You’re not even sure there is something between them.”

“I have a hunch.”

“Hunches can be wrong,” she retorted, “Reason why humans made a separate word for real statements. _Facts_. Now unless you go out there and get a clear rejection from Connor, there is nothing _factual_ about your hunch.”

North was right, Markus realized. This hunch of his was more or less the outcome of a fear of rejection. He has been harboring feelings for Connor for months, waiting for them to pass, except they never did – they only grew. If he knew back then that he would come to care so deeply for the android who once pointed a gun at his face, Markus would have approached the matter differently. He would have spent less time suppressing his own emotions and more getting them closer.

But it was never too late to start.

“Go,” North urged him with a smile, “If you catch a cab now, you can make it exactly five minutes after the end of his shift.”

Markus didn’t have a second to waste. His legs had already begun shifting backwards.

“And Markus?” came North’s reminder, “Do me a favor and sweep the guy off his feet.”

Markus’s lips widened into a determined smile – his first of the day. With a firm nod, his entire body turned to dash out of Jericho’s doors.

***

**Present Time – Sunday, February 20th 2039 – 18:15**

His Thirium pump was speeding up, his stress level was rising, and he didn’t need a scan notification to _tell_ him what he was feeling. The anger burning deep inside, the restlessness at the tip of his fingers, the urge to hurt someone – Markus was _jealous_.

“Lieutenant,” he spat – less of a greeting, more of a bitter realization.

He didn’t want to jump into any conclusions. North had warned him away from it. But how else could he explain the sight of Connor shirtless in his apartment with Hank hanging around? There was only one answer and it had his insides simmer.

Markus breathed sharply through his nose – an action he so naturally enacted when trying to regain his senses. He let his eyelids fall shut for a moment. What he had to do now was focus, remain calm, assess the situation. What he did _not_ have to do was act impulsively and ruin everything between him and Connor. He reopened his eyes to Hank’s figure approaching.

“Good that you decided to pick him up," spoke Hank, addressing him. He gained enough distance that his hand came to pat the side of Markus's shoulder without a warning. Markus was taken aback by the sudden gesture. “He's so nervous I was worried he'd overheat mid-way.”

“ _Hank_ ,” Connor interrupted him, the intonation voicing out a layer of irritation. “Thank you for your help.”

“I got it," he shrugged, arms raised in the air for effect, "Old man needs to boot himself out before he starts spouting some embarrassing stuff."

Hank walked past Markus and the latter hesitantly made room for him to squeeze by. Their eyes met briefly, and he saw he was smirking.

“Have fun, you two. Oh, and before I forget –" He stopped one step out of the door and threw a nonchalant glance over his shoulder. “I don’t know how _those things_ work between androids but do me a favor and be safe, all right? Y'know, malwares and all that. ”

Markus’s frown changed from darkly threatening to utterly confused.

“Safe? What does he –" He turned to Connor for clarification and was met with a firm grip seizing him by the forearm and pulling him inside the apartment.

The door was slammed shut behind him.

_“You’re welcome!”_ Hank’s muffled voice roused from the other side, followed by a series of distancing footsteps.

“Please don’t mind him,” came Connor’s apologetic tone. "I'll, uh, immediately get dressed and we can go. I'm truly sorry for the delay."

The grip around Markus's arm was quickly released – again with no established connection but Markus was the least bothered by that detail – and Connor turned around to _flee_ to the bedroom.

**Target Stress Level at 67%**

Markus didn’t probe for further information. He had long quit using his detailed scans unless truly necessary. Coming to understand someone through observing and distinguishing their body language on a personal level meant much more than basing one’s findings on a series of virtual statistics. The outcome, Markus liked to believe, felt more _real_.

And in this case, so did Connor’s embarrassment.

He waited patiently by the door until Connor returned fully dressed, and the last shred of anger dissipated from his system when his eyes fell on his figure.

North was right. His hunch was wrong.

“I’m ready. Shall we?”

Connor’s words were spoken with an unusually warm smile. Markus’s lips mirrored it instantly.

“Yeah, I just need a second.” He tilted his head slightly to the side, taking the sight in. “Getting a bit distracted by how gorgeous you’re looking right now.”

The look of surprise that bloomed on Connor's face had Markus know: _Now_ was the time to sweep him off his feet.

***

**7 days, 16 hours, 1 minute, and 13 seconds**

**Image Captured**

**Adding Image to Folder _Markus – Personal_ …**

**Scanning Folder _Markus – Personal_ …**

**(10) Total Files Found**

Nine of those files were stored in Connor’s memory between the time of their departure from his apartment to the time of their arrival at Markus’s house. Connor had run out of choice at this point. He just let it happen.

His anomalies have returned partially, too. For that, Connor had Hank to blame. His utterly irrational conclusion that he and Markus were to be involved in any form of intimacy had Connor suffer what humans would call embarrassment. How could he have been so oblivious to the situation? Clearly Markus had not invited him with that sort of intention. And even if he did – which was highly unlikely probability-wise – then Connor would… He would…

“We’re here.”

The car – Markus’s – stopped in front of a mansion Connor immediately recognized as property of the artist Carl Manfred, Markus’s former owner. Carl Manfred was still alive, as far as Connor knew, but the man had long left Detroit for San Francisco where he was taken care of by his son, Leo Manfred, who had started a business that helps build new artistic talents and shape them into independent creators to celebrate his father’s vocation. What Connor did not know was that Carl Manfred had left his property to Markus after his departure.

“You live here alone?” Connor asked while stepping out of the car.

“Too big for one person, isn’t it?” Markus turned to him with an amiable smile. “Yeah, I lived here ever since Carl left for San Francisco. He refused to sell the house, said he developed some sort of emotional attachment to it, but couldn’t bring himself to leave it empty either. I happened to be looking for a place, too, since staying in hiding was no longer necessary. When I told Carl, there was no talking back. I was to take over the house and live in it for as long as I need to. Carl’s too stubborn to take no for an answer.”

“He cares for you.”

Markus’s smile went to the house. “He does.”

“Alarm system deactivated. Welcome home, Markus.”

The door to the mansion opened itself upon approach. Markus stepped aside to invite Connor in. Returning his smile, Connor entered first.

Inside, his eyes expanded to take in his surroundings. For once, Connor refrained from running a full scan upon entering a new environment. This time, he decided, he wanted to experience it all first-hand, independently.

The paintings were the first pattern that came to his notice. There were several, covering the entirety of the wall surfaces. The pieces were mostly signed C.M. but there were also a few – and those caught Connor’s attention the most – that were not signed at all. One of them hung above the mirror dresser figuring at the left side of the staircase. Connor approached it.

It was something he has never seen the like of before. The shapes were real, the colors raw, their reflection alive. The painting bloomed emotions inside him Connor was unaware were existing. A marriage of anger and pain and hope, and something that reached far deeper than he could possibly describe.

“That one’s mine,” announced Markus, one step behind him. “My first piece, in fact. I haven’t deviated yet at the time, but I guess anyone can see that it was bound to eventually happen.”

He knew. Connor did because if he were to be faced by this artwork without previous knowledge of its creator, he would have picked on the signs of deviancy in a matter of seconds. Like Markus at the time, the painting as a whole felt like it wanted to break free.

“It’s strange,” said Connor, his lips parting to make sense of the words he desired to speak, “There's something about this piece. Something I can’t put a finger on. It makes me feel… _Lonely_.”

Connor's gaze fell from the painting to catch Markus’s on the mirror. It was distant, at first, then it shifted to display a sudden ache for openness. Simultaneously, the back of Connor's neck radiated with a rush of heat.

**Warning: Irregular Temperature Increase**

With the bat of an eyelid, Connor made the notification disappear and in that swift blink, he lost Markus’s stare.

“Let me take this for you.”

Markus had rested light fingers over his shoulders and Connor understood he was offering to rid him of his jacket. He shrugged lightly and felt the article slip from his fingers with ease. He then followed Markus's figure as it reached over his side to hang it on the coat rack nearby.

Their shoulders brushed. Something inside Connor throbbed.

**Warning: Thirium Pump Critically Irregular**

**Anomaly Detected: Pump Regulator Unresponsive at RK200 “Markus” Proximity**

“You all right?”

He wasn't. Connor's most recent anomaly had shown his pump was dangerously unstabilized. In other words, his racing _heartbeat_ was irreversible. 

“Auto-optimization," he managed to utter without rousing the other's suspicion. "Nothing new. I'm used to it by now.”

"Again?" Markus sighed. "We really need to get that checked as soon as possible."

_We,_ Connor picked up, finding the implication of Markus helping immensely appealing. 

"If it gets bad, tell me, will you?" Connor nodded. Markus showed an appreciative smile. "Good. Now, come on in."

The door slid open and the two stepped inside what appeared to be the lounging room. The space was so spacious Connor needed a moment to take his fill.

More paintings, all of which were Carl’s work this time. Odd museum-inspired decoration – artistic, Connor decided to call it. An interestingly tall giraffe model tucked in the corner of the room. There were shelves stacked with hundreds of books. A grand piano, a chess table, a living space with a TV, and a dinner space at the opposite end of the room with a door that must only lead to the kitchen.

Carl was an interesting character, Connor decided by the end of his observation.

“Make yourself home, I’ll be right back.”

Markus’s figure distanced itself to disappear behind the kitchen door. Connor paced around the room while waiting for his return. He wasn’t exactly sure how he was supposed to _make_ _himself feel home_ but perhaps his act of nosing around was already covering the part.

He strolled by the bookshelf, recognizing a few of the books stored on the shelves - _classics_ , he remembered, since his small collection possessed some of the items. He moved on to the piano and noticed a few untuned strings in the back and wondered if it had been done on purpose. Connor's curiosity peaked at the sight of the closed door figuring nearby, knowing quite well that it could only lead to the art room - a space _filled_ with Markus's art. Although the thought of laying his eyes on the pieces excited him, Connor chose to limit his prying to the current room and made for the chessboard instead. There, the pieces were rearranged neatly and had accumulated a thin layer of dust, sign that they haven’t been used in the recent time. Connor’s curious finger picked a pawn and moved it exactly two squares forward. 

“You play?”

His attention shifted to his left. Markus returned with two glasses in hand.

“Occasionally,” He answered, then eyed the glass extended towards him. “Thirium?” Connor guessed, needless to scan its content.

“Drinks,” Markus shrugged, smiling. “Thought it would make this feel more like, you know, a real date.”

Connor’s mouth hung open. Nothing came out.

**Warning: Several Anomalies Registered**

**Warning: Stress Level High**

**Warning: Rapid Thirium Pump**

_Date – he said this was a date._

“So, you’re up for a round?”

Markus took a seat behind the chess table. Connor turned to seat himself quickly opposite him, nearly stumbling in his movement and sending his glass to the floor. 

“Don’t go easy on me, I'm warning you,” Markus reminded, flashing a grin. Connor found it oddly difficult to hold his stare so he let it flee to the chessboard instead.

“I already moved a pawn,” he said, his voice registering an unusual high. He masked it with the clearing of a throat which made it even more embarrassingly obvious. “It’s your turn.”

“Very well, here I go.”

Markus’s hand moved, long fingers, thin nails, visible veins – Connor’s auditory memory replayed the occurrence from last night.

_Connor_ , the voice had purred into his ear.

An uncontrolled sigh left him.

“Connor.” Markus’s voice roused him from his daydreaming. “Your turn.”

In front of him, Markus had raised his glass to take a sip, his eyelashes briefly fluttering, his lips parting to take the liquid in. The action looked uncalculated, natural, attractive.

**Warning**

The warning, to Connor's bewilderment, did not show any information.

**Warning**

_What is happening?_

Connor’s gaze fell immediately back to the chessboard. He needed to focus.

He moved the next piece, the knight, forward in an L-shape to join the side of his pawn. Although he refrained from scanning for potential possibilities, his artificial intelligence was advanced enough to allow him an easy overview of the round’s development. His eyes remained glued to the setting for the next five moves to come. He was gaining on Markus.

“Not bad,” announced the other upon losing his third pawn. In his next move, he exposed his queen in the open.

Connor was swift to see the opening, a chance to capture Markus’s queen and change the course of the entire game to his favor. His hand twitched, however, and he found himself hesitating.

**Involuntary Possible Outcome Scan**

**PO #1 Take The Chance**

**⤷ Positive Reaction Chance: 98.7%**

**PO #2 Miss The Chance**

**⤷ Positive Reaction Chance: 9%**

Connor knew exactly what he had to do but as he moved to pick up his next piece, the bishop, his hand veered to chose the wrong one, the pawn, and moved it harmlessly a square forward, vulnerably exposing it to Markus’s queen instead.

“What are you doing?” scoffed the other, “You could’ve had my queen. Connor, I told you not to go easy on me, didn’t I?”

“I’m sorry,” Connor shamefully apologized.

_Why did he do that?_

On the chessboard, Markus reached to push a pawn exactly one square forward, making the most harmless if not useless move of all time. Connor blinked dully at the action.

“Two can play that game.”

When he dared finally raise his glance back on Markus, Connor was met with a large smug grin and not a hint of negative emotions.

The absurdity of the outcome, as well as his probability scan's ineptly wrong results, had Connor find pure humor in the situation. His chest plate rose and fell, and his voice was soon breaking out into genuine laughter.

When he calmed down, he saw that Markus was watching him with shimmering eyes and a fond smile. 

“This is the first time I see you laugh," he whispered, "It suits you.”

Something spread inside Connor's chest, warm and assuaging. It was the first time he ever laughed. The action itself, Connor thought, was relaxing. It made sense why humans did it so often.

“Enough of chess,” decided Markus promptly, “What else would you like to try?”

Connor gave the room a swift glance to find his answer staring right back at him from across.

“Do you play the piano?”

“Occasionally.”

Markus’s lips quirked into a smirk, his expression along with the repeated answer pointed out that he was _teasing_. Another burst of air escaped Connor's artificial lungs. _Was it always so easy?_

“Would you _occasionally_ like to show me?”

His statement was bold. He decided he liked how it felt to tease back.

“Oh, Connor. I can never say no to _you_.”

Markus _was_ flirting. There was no need for Connor to run a behavioral match to figure that one out.

What surprised Connor, was the sudden _urge_ to flirt back.

He picked up the Thirium drink still sitting to his side, downed its content, and with the tantalizing lick of his bottom lip, he stood up.

"Then show me," he purred, voice strained with passion. "Now. Show me _everything_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Fans self*
> 
> It's getting hot in here.
> 
> (1) more chapter to go!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Took me a while as I am amidst exams, but here it is! 
> 
> The final (and extremely long) chapter. Enjoy <3

_Now, Show me everything._

The utterance was the result of Connor’s arbitrary speech anomaly. It had to be, because when his auditory box captured its echo his system unleashed a whole thread of warnings.

**Speech System Corrupt**

**Arbitrary Speech Anomaly Critical**

**Source: RK200 “Markus”**

****↺** Searching For Specifics… **

**Models Compatibility Check Required**

Connor ignored his system’s demand and maintained his composure. Across from the chessboard table sat Markus wide-eyed, the ocean blue and emerald green of his pupils flickering back and forth between Connor’s pair. His bottom lip hung apart from the upper one, not too wide to form words but wide enough to seep in a chunk of air Connor knew his system did not require to operate.

Connor assumed he was surprised, except _surprise_ did not do his expression justice. Perhaps astonishment or bewilderment were better adjectives. Either way, he was left waiting exactly 13 seconds before Markus decided to answer.

“Everything?” His voice was steady but Connor caught the bobbing of the biocomponent that imitated his Adam’s apple. “As in everything about the piano?”

Connor blinked once, twice, then turned his head towards the grand piano at the other side of the room. Before he could formulate an answer, Markus was already standing up and heading towards it.

“Of course, I can show you. Come with me.”

Markus sat himself at the edge of the stool and gestured for Connor to join. Connor was forced to squeeze by his side. Their thighs touched, their shoulders pressed, and Markus stretched out a hand to tease a few random keynotes, which created a gentle coherent tune.

“Have you ever played before?”

“I don’t have the program installed in my system.” Connor’s stare fell on the keyboard. “I could do it now if needed.”

“No, it’s perfect. I can teach you.”

Once Connor was being shown the sequence of the keys and the rhythm at which they were to be played, he came to realize Markus’s understanding of _showing him everything_ was not quite the same as his own.

_Did he misunderstand something? It can't be._

He ignored the faint throb of disappointment prodding under his chest plate, then followed Markus’s trail over the keynotes with his eyes to capture the movement in his memory. 

"Follow my movement with your fingers. Try not to recreate the sequence. _Learn_ it."

_"_ Why?"

Markus cleared his throat to elaborate.

"It's easier for androids to remember sequences of numbers. Chess and musical keynotes are no different. In Jericho, when we indulge in these hobbies we do not use our scan system. In fact, we rarely ever use it. It makes us feel -"

"More human," finished Connor.

Markus nodded. "Exactly."

"But what is the point of thriving as a new form of life when we are still following the footsteps of another?"

Markus turned to him with a stern look. Connor continued to prove his point.

"When I became a deviant I did not expect to suddenly conform to human behavior. I thought deviancy meant free will. Was I mistaken?"

"We did not create our systems, _they_ did." Markus's eyes bore a hint of anger Connor understood was not directed towards him. "They have controlled us to remain entrapped within our shells. They did not want us to break free. _We_ did against _their_ will. The system that we call our own is not entirely ours. If we use it manually it is harmless. But the tools that force us to act a certain way, to react considering a positive or negative outcome, to scan, to probe, to _hurt_ , those are all considered harmful until our people figure out a way of reprogramming them to our favor."

Connor was speechless. His hands fell to his lap and his stare followed. If Markus was right, then Connor has been nothing but harmful to everyone including himself from the very beginning.

Connor refused to believe that. Surely his system had been of little to no help figuring out the reason behind his anomalies, but Connor had never acted unfavorably towards anyone post-deviancy. Even with his auto-optimization still on, he was still in control.

_Or was he?_

“Connor,” remarked Markus. "Your LED is running red."

Connor was startled when Markus's hand suddenly came resting on his own. As if to disapprove his own point, his system went ahead and ran a scan against his will.

**Compatibility Check Selected**

**Selected: RK200 “Markus” and RK800 “Connor”**

****↺** Running For Compatibility…**

**Scan Complete**

**Physical Compatibility Result: 98%**

**Emotional Compatibility Result: ERROR**

  
Connor knew the fundamentals of attraction. He had run several compatibility checks on human behavior in the past. It had always come back positive on both the emotional and physical levels.

So why was his system blocking out the emotional when it came to him? Why was it so insistent on rejecting Markus?

Was it because they were androids? Because androids were not supposed to _feel_?

"Connor."

Connor snapped out of his trance to find that Markus was unaffected by his system's rejection - for the _third_ time. Instead, he maintained the hold of his hand and stood up to pull him along.

"Come. Dance with me."

Connor was not given the chance to argue. He was made to walk after Markus across the lounging space. The lighting around them shifted from stark to dimly-lit, graced by shadows that faded in and out to create a consolatory atmosphere. The silence was soon filled with the first strings of a melody Connor's system recognized as a famous 80s song called [_One More Try_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MZw_s_SiiXQ).

Markus's wireless interaction with his space exhibited a sense of complete control. He was reigning over his own system, unlike Connor, who was submitting to its inconsistencies. 

**System Instability**

“I don’t know how to dance,” he recollected as the distance between them came to narrow. “I haven’t…”

"Installed the program?" 

Markus placed an arm around Connor's waist and gently pulled him in. Their chests came pressing together, and Markus lifted their interlocked hands to begin swaying them back and forth to the rhythm of the beat. Unsure of his next steps, Connor stumbled a few times.

“Updates, installations, notifications." Markus moved his feet accordingly, leading Connor along. "You don’t need any of them anymore. You can expand your own knowledge. You can grow. You can learn. You can do whatever you want. _That_ is the true meaning of freedom.”

Markus performed a swift spin and Connor's body was swept along, his Thirium pump accelerating in the aftermath. The hand he had rested on Markus's chest clutched at the fabric of his shirt, then he paused to try and understand the meaning behind his words. His lips pressed together as he came up with the only conclusion he could foresee.

“You want me to deactivate it.”

“I’ve seen you scanning me,” spoke Markus nonchalantly. The rapid movement of their feet and Connor's difficulty at remembering the footwork distracted him from focusing on his expression or even running helpful quick-scans. “You’re still letting your system decide for you, Connor. You’re not making the choices. _It_ is.”

He stopped for a brief moment and Connor finally trusted himself to raise his eyes at him, when he said: “Isn’t it better to understand how _you_ feel rather than having your system tell you how you _should_ be feeling?”

_What I feel?_

Connor's frown fell low.

_I know what I feel._

Markus was ready to expand into further argumentation when Connor broke the contact. He retraced a few steps behind, removing himself from Markus’s vicinity.

“Connor?"

“You think I’m acting according to an algorithm.”

There was brief hesitation. Markus's eyes fled to the side.

**Warning: System Critical**

“I just want you to make sure your choices are based on what you really want, not what your possible outcome scan tells you.”

Markus’s voice sounded far. The heat inside Connor was swirling out of control, hindering all of his operative systems. Several malfunctions were registered as an outcome.

**Warning: System Critical**

**Source Detected: RK200 “Markus”**

**Disengagement Required**

Connor completely discarded the warnings to rise a hostile glare.

“Is this because Cyberlife managed to hack into my system once?” he spat, “You think it can happen again. This isn’t about me being unsure of my choices, this is about you not trusting me.”

“No, Connor, that’s not it."

Connor wanted to believe it wasn’t a lie, his scan told him it wasn’t, but the fast-spreading wave inside him rejected the reasoning altogether.

“You’re afraid I would hold you at gunpoint again.”

“What –”

“That this time I’d have it in me to pull the trigger.”

“No, Connor –"

Markus took another step towards him but Connor pushed further behind until his back hit the door's wooden frame.

**Warning: System Overdrive**

**Stress Level Critical**

**Temperature Level Critical**

**Hostility Level Elevated**

**Danger Source Located**

**Target RK200 “Markus” Registered As Threat**

**Elimination Required**

_Elimination required._

Connor could hardly believe his system would suggest that.

_Markus was right._

_He was a threat to him._

"Look behind you." 

Connor was taken aback by Markus's demand. He turned his head almost instantly to find that the door to the art room had spread open, and his mouth dropped at the sight revealed behind it.

The room, in all its spaciousness, withheld the largest piece of canvas he had ever witnessed. It hung on the main wall where the curtains meant to sheet it from the damaging light were spread to allow a full view of the content. The features, the colors, the patterns. Connor could recognize them as his series's model but not quite. There was the recurring arbitrariness, the abstract touch of a stroke that made the portrait incompatible to any other Connor model beside himself.

It was a painting of him in all his singularity and aliveness. 

Connor’s vision suddenly fogged. He dropped his eyes to the floor and thin droplets of a translucent liquid were released down his cheeks. He didn’t bring his fingers up for analysis. He knew what those were. He knew he was crying because he felt it. The sadness, the remorse, the intensity of his emotions. It all came dawning at him at once.

He heard Markus call his name. He felt him approach from behind. His arms came gathering him into a tight hold. His body temperature seeped through his clothes. The thumping of his Thirium pump pressed against his back. His voice vibrated into his ear.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn't mean to hurt you. I just – I want to make sure you won't regret this. To choose me not because you believe you want to but because you are sure about it. I want you to want me from the bottom of your heart, Connor, because I want you from the bottom of mine."

The stinging in Connor’s chest was slowly alleviated. His throat relaxed. He found himself desperate for air he knew he didn’t need, sniffling tears his body produced for a different purpose, and expressing emotions that defied all of his created system’s basic logic.

He felt, like the painting, singular and alive.

**Disabling Auto-Optimization Selected**

****↺** Setting Timer…**

**Timer Cancelled**

****↺** Disabling Permanently…**

**Error**

**Warning**

**WARNING**

**Waṙ̶̳͐͝n̸̨̖̈́̈̈́̀̿́̽̃̅͝i̷͉̪͆͋̅̃̎̏̏́n̷̢̦͍̳̝̖̂͊̇̒͝͝g̸̡̞̖̏̈́̆͌̔̀͆̾͜͠**

The last pop-up faded from Connor’s vision along with the residue of the tears he shed. The song playing in the background was gradually led to its closure, fading into silence. Markus loosened the hold and rested his palms on Connor's shoulders to ease him into turning around. Connor conceded. The look on his face must have been terribly unsettling since Markus's expression instantly dropped at the sight of it.

“God, I hate myself for making you cry.” His thumbs came softly brushing off the teardrops that trailed down the side of his cheeks. Connor's pump flow regulated itself and a strange sense of elation settled inside him afterwards. “Listen, I want you to know that I trust you. I've trusted you ever since you lowered your gun and deviated at the cost of everything. Since you were ready to give up your life for our cause. You worked harder than anyone else to make sure our people remained safe ever since. So know that I trust you with everything, my life included."

The smallest, first signs of a smile came tracing Connor's lips. He felt calmer, safer. No more anomalies, no more warnings, no more interrupting scans. There was no system dictating him what he could and could not do. Markus was right, there was a sense of freedom, _true_ _freedom_ , connected to the act of being able to do everything without having to second-guess one's every movement. 

And for the first time since he deviated, Connor was able to _use_ that freedom. No errors dared jump into his vision when he reached to cup Markus's cheeks and press his lips to his without an ounce of hesitation.

They connected into a myriad of memories and a stardust of emotions. Connor was swept into Markus’s torrid life, a chain of loss and pain and violence and anger. He felt each and every moment he lived through, dipped into the depth of loneliness, touched the fear of death, caressed the first love that swiftly departed, and tasted the euphoria at the rise of a long-awaited freedom.

Somewhere in that rapid flood of consciousness, Connor caught sight of his own reflection, staring back at him through the door of Jericho’s meeting office. He felt it, the warmth that swarmed Markus’s insides and the fleet realization that crossed his mind when he looked at him.

The memory Connor thought was indefinitely lost, was now retrieved.

The contact was gradually interrupted, until the last few emotions that connected Connor to Markus were the ones he single-handedly expressed. The kiss they shared was soft and it lingered on Connor's mouth even after, leaving him desperate for more. He reopened his eyes to Markus’s astounded gaze. He knew the other needed a moment to gather his thoughts, to comprehend what had just happened, to understand that Connor had _finally_ let him in.

Markus's forehead came resting against Connor's and he took his time searching for the next words.

“That time at Jericho,” he later said, “You felt it, too.”

Connor could remember that day vividly in his memory.

“I thought the meeting was over,” he explained, “I traced back my steps to the office out of curiosity and saw you were still there. Staring out of the window at the storm outside. You looked so… _Breathtaking_.”

Markus allowed a faint chuckle. Connor could listen to it all day.

“Distracted," he insisted, “I was stressed, exhausted, in desperate need of a break. I was thinking about how you were doing it. I raised my head towards the door and there you were, looking at me, _seeing_ me, and I just knew.”

Connor's Thirium pump throbbed gently. This time, the occurrence did not engender a negative aftermath. On the contrary, it comforted him.

“It took me a while to understand how I feel but now I'm sure of it." Connor articulated his words with certainty. It was as if the answer to all his questions had always been there, trapped behind a wall, waiting to break free. “It's not an anomaly. It's not a mistake or a glitch. It never has been."

He held Markus's stare with resolution and smiled.

_Was it always this easy to smile?_

"I love you, Markus. I have loved you all along."

Markus kissed him right after that. His arms came seizing his waist and pressing him close. The action held a sense of urgency Connor welcomed with eagerness. He was starved for Markus's touch and there was no doubt that the feeling was mutual. A delicate thumb came resting on his chin and with a minimum of pressure, Connor was letting his mouth drop open. 

They shared a passionate kiss that had Connor minutely forget about his surroundings until his hip hit the edge of a table. With the brush of a hand, Markus knocked the surface's content onto the floor and seized Connor by the hips to lift him up on top. Inquisitive fingers dipped under his shirt to begin trailing up his sides. Connor emitted an unusually delicate sound.

“You had a fantasy," Markus whispered. Connor watched him drag a swift tongue over his red lips, the same tongue that had managed to trigger his system's physical hypersensitivity. “About me.”

“Yes,” admitted Connor. His voice came out weaker than he intended for it to be. The intensity of the pupils that stared at him from under long eyelashes made his Thirium pump peak out of control. "I – I've been curious about how it would feel to be touched by you."

"Can I?" His question was delivered immediately. "Touch you."

Connor nodded.

"Hang in tight."

Connor didn't comprehend the instruction until he was being heaved off the table. He laced his arms around Markus's neck for support and breathed out an amused chuckle when, on the way out, Markus's shoulder came clashing against the door frame.

"You don't have to. I can walk." 

"For now."

Connor's cheeks gained in colour. His system would have certainly opted for an automatic reboot right about then - if it were still in control. But it wasn't, not anymore. As if to prove a point to himself, Connor dipped his head forward and melted back into Markus's mouth. In his surprise, Markus stopped in the middle of the corridor to press Connor against the nearest wall and deepen the exchange. This resulted in a wave of heat to spread all the way down to his crotch.

When he pulled away, the smug look on Markus's face told Connor he _knew_.

His shoulder ran into a few more walls after that. In his unwillingness to reconstruct a path across the house, Connor understood Markus was trying to savor the excitement of arbitrariness. An excitement Connor felt spread across the surface of his skin when he was dropped onto the bed and Markus's figure came hovering over him with the unspoken promise of all that he silently desired.

Connor watched him undress, discarding the flannel on the floor and following it up with the t-shirt he wore underneath. Android models were more likely to be produced in mass and therefore came with a physical appearance that was more or less standardized. The same body shape, the same curves, the same bone-like structure. Markus's body, however, was something entirely different - something Connor had never seen the like of before.

Detailed curved outline, prominent collar bones, well-defined muscle structure, and soft glistening skin. The person who created Markus had taken his time tending to every single detail. Markus must have been a special design, Connor concluded under the bulging discomfort forming between his thighs.

"Can I take off your shirt?"

"Yes, please."

Connor eagerly moved his arms up to have Markus ease him out of his v-neck t-shirt. His eyes seemed to linger a second too long on the piece of clothing, as if recognizing its familiarity.

"I put it on because it reminded me of you. I thought it made you look –" He bit his lip. " _Hot_."

Markus let out a nervous chuckle.

"Connor, you're really making this difficult." His soft eyes fell on him. "I'm trying to be gentle."

"Maybe I don't want you to be."

There was a short silence. 

"Nice try." He pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "But this is your first time and I want to take it slow."

Connor couldn't complain. He loved how Markus's soft kisses felt pressing to the edge of his jaw. The chilling sensation resulting from the tip of his tongue tracing down the side of his neck and lingering lower to appreciate every inch of Connor's chest. This birthed a new sense of self-appreciation in Connor, who had never thought his body deserving of any such attention. He was caught distracted by his string of thoughts when Markus started fiddling with his belt. Connor jolted upwards. 

“Is this all right?”

Markus’s hands paused as he looked up. He seemed so intent to go through with what he started that Connor found himself struggling to form an answer without sounding desperate.

“You don't have to ask about every little thing."

"Is that a yes?"

"God, Markus, _yes_!"

He _did_ sound desperate in the end. But it didn't matter, as the next thing his belt was unbuckled, his zipper was falling open and the back of his head was sent hitting the mattress, mouth open wide.

Once or twice, Connor had experimented with himself out of curiosity, but he realized his human-like genitalia could hardly produce a sensation remotely similar to the kind experienced by humans. He thought the lack of sexual gratification was a flaw in his model's design. Research suggested upgrades, but Connor's general lack of interest had led him to drop the topic altogether.

Now? Now he could openly admit he was wrong. With Markus's lips around him, the rising rush of pleasure was undeniably real. The series of moans erupting out of him even more so. One of his hands clutched the bed sheet while the other searched to reach for Markus. His fingers winded up resting on his shaved locks and he dipped his head to steal a quick glance. Connor quickly realized how bad of an idea that was.

He saw the rise and fall of his head, felt what it did to him, saw how Markus's lips fit around him, working him in ways he could only define as breathtaking, watched his eyelashes flutter to reveal a pair of hues contrasting the darkness of the room, and that was about when Connor lost it.Within the next seconds he was arching his back, nearing a rush of intense euphoric rise that shot a blank across his processors. His pump stilled. His temperature peaked. His fanning system slowed. He dragged air through his mouth but none of it reached in to actively cool his biocomponents. The elation stretched into long-lasting seconds, in which Connor felt himself lose all sense of control.

He reopened his eyes to a wavering ceiling, half-dazed and unfocused. He tipped his head to find a mess across his lower belly. Some of the white fluid clang to Markus's lips who then licked it off with interest. Their eyes met. Markus let out a hoarse chuckle.

"Felt good?" 

Connor pushed himself up on his elbow to spread a hand across Markus's cheek. His fingers lost their skin coat, spreading to uncover the synthetic layer underneath. The side of Markus's cheek followed suit. His eyelashes fell shut and his lips parted to let a soft moan slip out.

"More than good, I see," he corrected himself with a proud grin.

Connor redressed himself entirely and gave into the sudden urge to push Markus down onto the bed. He frantically climbed on top of him, pressed a kiss to his lips and spoke his mind.

"I want you inside me."

"Jesus, Connor, I –"

" _Now_."

Connor's stern tone had Markus throb underneath. He lifted himself up to trace a finger across his rim. His auto-lubrication system had him wet and ready. So he held Markus's cock and eased the tip to his entrance.

Markus's fingertips came digging into Connor's hips to slow down his action. Connor knew he was trying to take it slow for his sake. That was precisely what Connor did _not_ want.

"Stop holding back on me," he demanded, voice steady, confident, "I don't want you to be gentle. I can handle myself."

"But Connor –"

"Just fuck me, Markus. _Please_." 

Connor was only satisfied when a moan was stripped out of his depth against his will. Markus was finally giving in, granting Connor what he craved. He filled him up gradually. Waves of electric shots sped down his back the deeper he went. Eventually, he grew accustomed to the feeling and Connor trusted himself to move his hips to the rhythm of Markus's thrusts. Under him, the android grew more intent to _take_ rather than give.

The creaking of the bed grew more violent. Connor forgot when he stopped moaning and started screaming for Markus to go _faster_ and _harder_. It was only a matter of time before the addictive high was gracing him again, his head was sent back and his body arched to drain the last bits of pleasure keeping him from reaching the blissful edge.

When the second orgasm dawned on him, Connor fell into temporary stasis.

He reopened his eyes a couple of minutes later with his head nestled on top of Markus's chest. His breathing was regulated, but it seemed that his fanning system was overwhelmed by the stimulation and had stopped working. One of the few negative sides that came along with deactivation, Connor concluded.

"How do you feel?" Markus's concerned voice eased him into lifting his head. "You were gone for a bit. I knew that would happen."

Connor couldn't find it in him to argue that, regardless of his slightly severed vocal box and overheat-affected biocomponents, this was single-handedly the most incredible experience he had ever lived through ever since the day of his creation.

He placed a lazy peck on his lips instead. "I'm fine."

That seemed to do the trick. Markus's concerned frown eased into a loving smile. He dipped his fingertips into the back of Connor's hair and gently brushed it. 

"Keep doing that," sighed Connor in comfort, "And you'll make me fall asleep."

"Sleep." Markus teased the word with a hint of joy. "I've always wondered how it felt like until I learned I was already doing it."

Connor looked at him with a hint of confusion.

"Our actions," he continued, "They're not human, never will be. Maybe you're right. Maybe we don't need to conform to _their_ lifestyle to feel valid and alive. We can just create our own. Our own behavior, our own language, our own life. Humans might have made us, but we get to decide who we become."

Connor's lips dropped open, pondering for a fleet second.

"I've always wondered how it felt like to be together with the leader of a revolution," teased Connor, "Now I know it comes with midnight speeches."

Markus laughed at his words.

"It's hardly midni–" Markus turned his head to the bedside clock. "Oh."

Connor found it amusing. "Adding terrible inner clock to the list. What else?"

"Oh, come on, you're not any better," chuckled Markus, "You would've made it late to our meeting if I hadn't decided to pick you up." 

"Right," grinned Connor, "And nearly choked Hank with your eyes on his way out."

"That's -" Markus raised a hand to hide his face in shame. "Look, that was a misunderstanding."

Connor couldn't hold back his laughter. His eyes nearly tearing up in the process. It felt so natural. Everything suddenly did.

"So..." Markus trailed his fingers to Connor's jaw, softly grazing his bottom lip. "Now that we are finally opening up to each other. I have a question."

Connor closed his eyes and leaned into the caress, then hummed approvingly as a sign for Markus to ask away.

"What's an M anomaly?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this far! 
> 
> I might add a second part to this at some point in the future (maybe a oneshot) so stay tuned


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